calls.”
I called Marilyn, and she answered my third phone call. “Hello, lover boy!”
I asked softly, “Where are you, Marilyn?” I could hear loud music in the background.
She answered, “I couldn’t stand seeing that son of a bitch again, so I went out and am afraid that I am now too drunk to drive.”
I held my anger. “Where are you, Marilyn?”
She said, “I am at Stump Willy’s; you know, that place that we used to go to before the baby was born.”
Stump Willy’s was a tavern on the Dallas county line. It was a raunchy place that people went to to get away from their problems. Men often met women there that they didn’t want to be seen with, and vice versa. It was very dark on the inside, and a wonderful place to cheat on your spouse. If you didn’t have a partner when you went in, there was a high probability that you would have one when you left.
I said, “I am coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere, don’t talk to anyone. Stay put, understand me?”
I heard her say, “Get your hands off me, you bastard.”
I hung up the phone and dialed for a taxi. It took twelve minutes for the taxi to arrive, and fifteen minutes to get to Stump Willy’s. I paid the driver an extra twenty dollars to get me there as quickly as possible.
When I ran into the bar, Marilyn stood on the dance floor with two men. Her blouse was unbuttoned well below her bra, and I could clearly see both of her breasts. She was actually dancing with both men at the same time. I stomped up to the dance floor, grabbed her by the arm, and began pulling her off the floor. Then I was blindsided by a big fist. I went down and Marilyn fell on top of me, her skirt riding up to her panties. I did my best to protect my stomach, but one kick got through and all that I could do then was curl up in the fetal position. I was kicked repeatedly. I tried blocking them with my arms but wasn’t very successful.
The bartender broke up the fight and the police arrived, but the two men had already left.
I was sitting in a chair staring at the floor when the thought entered my mind. I looked up at Marilyn. “I am no longer proud of you. This time you went too far.”
She began to sob and fell on her knees in front of me. She begged, “Please, Brandon, I didn’t do anything wrong, I just took a day off work and had a few drinks.”
I stared straight ahead. “You had more than a few drinks, Marilyn. In fact, you had one too many!”
She continued to beg. “Please, Brandon, don’t be angry at me.”
It took every bit of strength that I had, but I stood up, went out the front door and got in our car. I heard the passenger door jerk open and I figured that Marilyn had gotten in.
I was driving home when she leaned over and asked, “Do you hate me?”
I looked hard at her. “I don’t want to be married to you anymore.” I knew that I had it; I had my way out of the marriage. I won’t say that I was happy, but I did keep from smiling.
She burst out sobbing. “But—but I didn’t do anything wrong, I just took a day off work.”
I looked sternly at her again. “You should have at least told me!”
She said, “I called and called you, but your phone was always busy.”
I nearly stuck my finger in her nose. “Marilyn, this is it. I can’t take it anymore. I am moving out tonight.”
She magically stopped crying. “I guess that you are taking the kids too?”
I hadn’t thought about that. “Nope, you can take care of them. I want standard visitation rights.”
She put her hand tenderly on my arm. “If you will stay, I will do anything that you want me to.”
I smiled. “You have already done more than I can stand. No more. You have done enough.”
She set back in her seat, folded her arms and pouted.
I picked both kids up and took the four of us home. While Marilyn cooked dinner, I was packing my clothes. The plan in my mind was starting to gel.
When dinner was on the table, I went in and kissed my two kids. “Daddy will be gone for a while. You guys mind your mother. You can call me if you need to talk to me.”
Marilyn piped up, “Does that apply to me too?”
I shook my head and pointed my finger at her. “You leave me alone.”
I left and went to a hamburger joint and ate. My thoughts were a blur. Then I went to a motel and got a room. I took out just what I needed from the trunk and left the rest inside the car. I was dying to call Sharon, but I didn’t. I watched television and then went to bed. I really felt all alone.
The next morning, I woke up, packed the car back up and went to work. I began looking online for furnished apartments. Geez, they were expensive. I found one close to work for fifteen hundred a month, plus utilities. At lunch, I went by and looked at it. It was fine, so I took it and unloaded some of my clothes. I was late going back to work and as soon as I sat down, my phone rang. It was Marilyn.
“Okay, Brandon, you have had your fun, now come back home.” She sounded like she was the one in charge!
My anger flared. “Me have fun? You are one messed up woman. Please leave me alone.”
She hung up.
I called her office and found that she had taken another day off. I was tempted to call her back, but I kept telling myself that I didn’t care where she went or what she did. Then I thought about my kids. A cold chill went down my back. Maybe I should have stayed and kept the kids and thrown her out. I guessed that I was just going to have to trust her some.
It was about six. I had completely unloaded my car when my phone rang. It was the house phone. A very tiny voice said, “Daddy, Mommy didn’t come home. Mrs. Baker brought us home and I showed her where the hidden key was. What should I do?”
I smiled at my young daughter. “Let me speak to Mrs. Baker.”
A mature, strong voice said, “Yes, this is Mrs. Baker.”
I said, “I will be there in fifteen minutes. Thanks for bringing my kids home.”
She said, “No problem,” but I knew it was.
I hung up and jumped in my car and sped off for my house.
On the drive home, I had a chance to think. My eight-year marriage was over, I was certain of that. I was going to have to do something about Marilyn. What was making her act the way that she was, I didn’t know, and wasn’t sure that I cared. I worked on a plan.
When I arrived, there was an old station wagon in the driveway. I parked beside it and went in. I handed Mrs. Baker fifty dollars and told her how much I appreciated what she had done. She was about forty and a very stern-looking woman. Even when she smiled, she didn’t look like she meant it.
Mrs. Baker left and I packed two bags for my kids, clean clothes. I got their toiletries and an extra pair of tennis shoes. We were gone in less than an hour, and I took them out to eat at a cafeteria. After dinner, we went to my apartment. I bathed the both of them and put them in my bed. I took a shower and when I got out my phone was ringing. I wrapped a towel around me, went and answered the phone.
It was Marilyn. She was frantic. “Brandon, where are the kids?”
I was a smart aleck. “They are with me. You no longer get the kids; in fact, you don’t get the house either. Tomorrow, you get out. I don’t want to ever see you in my house again.”
She said something that I didn’t understand, and I realized that she was talking to someone else. I was certain that it was another man in my house. My temper flared and I punched the end call button.
Not a minute later, my phone rang again. When I picked it up, she said, “That was rude. What is wrong with you?”
I took a leap. “You are drunk and you brought a man home with you. That is what is wrong with me. By the way, you get standard visitation with the kids. I am serious, you get out tomorrow. Tomorrow night, anything of yours left in that house goes in the fireplace. I am as serious as I can be.”
She said, “For your information, I am not drunk, and the man is j
ust Salva. I have done nothing wrong. Why are you being so mean to me?”
I smiled. “You two have fun tonight, but be gone tomorrow. I will have you arrested if you are there.” I was already working on my new plan.
But Marilyn wasn’t finished. “You jerk, you make eyes at that woman at church and you fault me for doing absolutely nothing wrong. Well, Mr. Big Shot, I am not leaving. You can have me arrested if you want, but if you don’t have my children home in one hour, I am calling the police and reporting my children kidnapped.”
A cold chill shook me. Could she do that? Should I take them home? I looked over at them and they were both sitting up in bed, wide-eyed, worried and watching me.
Johnny said, “Daddy, I want my momma.”
I hung up the phone and sat on the end of the bed. “Lay down, guys. You are sleeping here tonight. You will see your momma soon enough.”
They both lay back down, but neither went to sleep. I crawled up beside Johnny and held him close. I patted Rachael with my free hand.
It took thirty minutes, but they both went back to sleep. Now, what to do about the police?
An hour later, my phone rang again. It wasn’t Marilyn, it was the Dallas police. I answered meekly, “Hello?”
A strong male voice said, “This is Detective Wilson of the Dallas Police Department. Your wife says that you have kidnapped your children, and she wants to swear out a warrant against you. Why don’t you bring the kids home and we will sit down and work this out.”
I said, “Sir, I did not kidnap my kids. She failed to pick them up from school, so I